It's always a little strange when the distant past resurfaces to invade the present. Somewhere in the cupboard behind me are hundreds of cassettes dating from the early 1990s, and buried in those boxes are more than a couple featuring Bügsküll. Back then they were part of a strange musical landscape which I found myself inhabiting after almost accidentally drifting into it via my own cassette-based exploits...

Of course Bügsküll never really went away, despite my years of completely missing the point – and you can find out more about their exploits here. But what about Bügsküll in 2012? Well, in some aspects reassuringly little has changed. Now focused on the originally Portland, Oregon based but now continent-spanning duo of Sean Byrne (Austin, TX) and Aaron Day (Berlin), there is a refreshing directness which harks right back to those days of cassette releases and home recording. Their basic premise remains intact as Byrne's often delicate, heartfelt nearly-folk songs collide with scraps of recovered sound, simmer in tumults of generated noise and are steeped in analogue hiss and crackle. However, listening back to some of those early cassettes on Shrimper and Eldest Son there has certainly been a distinct shift in fidelity, and a move away from the way songs from those early recordings would dissolve frustratingly but rather beautifully into fuzzy, noisy oblivion as recording artefacts and format limitations became features of the soundscape. I'm not sure I always really understood what the band were aiming for back then – but perhaps one's musical palette matures in the same way our tastes in cuisine develop, and listening now – particularly in the context of "Hidden Mountain", I've completely fallen for the approach all over again.

Songs Heard on Fast Trains

finally done, this little split guy has been on the books for a while. EAGLE ALTAR offers up a thanksgeever slice of synthed out space. barely methodic, crawling along linear lines we search for hooks in the frozen undergrowth. hypnotic on some level, but always a good time.

bugskull gives us three dishes from the "communication" sessions that had to be cut from the final album to fit it on vinyl. more glowing electronic reverie that fades into the background, turning it into pure, psyched-up magic. good times again.

Digitalis limited

Flashback to 1997 and in the world of underground droning weirdness, Bugskull were heavyweight champions. The revolving cast of characters always centered around Sean Byrne. He concocted buckets full of syrupy delights that encompassed everything from electronica, post-rock, dub, noise and endless pop hooks. Byrne was joined by multi-instrumentalist Brendan Bell and percussionist James Yu throughout the latter half of the '90s, taking Bugskull from bedroom wonder to full-blown magic carpet band. Bugskull released records and singles on some of the great experimental labels of the day such as Road Cone, Scratch, and Shrimper. I can safely say that as I was discovering experimental music during my mid & late teens, Bugskull were one of my all-time favorite bands.

The last album Byrne released was in 2002, "The Big White Cloud," which followed-up the acclaimed "Distracted Snowflake" duology. During the late '90s, Byrne recorded a third album that extended the themes of the "Snowflake" records. Due to label issues and disputes, this third album never came out until now, almost ten years later. "Communication" is the bookend to the hypnotic reverie created by "Distracted Snowflake" volumes 1 & 2. With layers of organ and synth floating like cotton candy on top of dub and hip-hop infused beats, Byrne is in top form.

"Communication" isn't so much a lost album as it is confirmation of a legacy and declaration of intent. Bugskull is back. From the tribal beach vibes of "High Steppin' II" right down to the drenched bones of the droning, black river sonics of "Subterranean Life," this album brings everything that made Bugskull so great and concentrates it on two sides of vinyl. Upbeat, fast-moving synth lines bob and move in minimal electronic waves while violins moan on "Squeaky Bagpipe." The title track is an exercise in restraint as Byrne uses turntables and molasses-paced guitars to the listener into a false sense of serenity, only to be drowned in opiates and put to bed by "Pondlife." Whether he's created simple, deceptive trips with sparse, but effective rhythmic cues or is just wallowing in the aural beauty of sine tones and synth drones, Byrne doesn't ever let up.

For those who have been as big of fans I have through the years, you probably never thought another Bugskull album would show up on the horizon. I know I didn't. But after seven years of waiting for something fresh, it's all worth it in the end to start the journey from scratch.

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